


The Aftermath

by 221bjohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom, johnlock smut - Fandom
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry John, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Jealous John, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Smut, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Porn, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, SherlockxJohn, sherlock makes a point, signs of love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bjohnlock/pseuds/221bjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock returns to find John in a foul mood. As angry as John is with Sherlock, Sherlock is able to detect jealousy inside of John. Seeing all the signs, Sherlock is able to deduct that John is in love with him and proceeds to prove that point, taking his pulse much like he did with Irene Adler. John finally gives in and smut ensues. More Chapters to be added with plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath

John Watson sat in his usual arm chair in the flat he shared with socio-path and consulting detective Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street in London. The flat was completely silent except for the ticking of the clock set on the mantelpiece beside a skull, and the occasional noise from Mrs Hudson making dinner downstairs.

John silently glared at Sherlock who was sat on a chair opposite him, his long pale hands put together in a steeple and watching John with mild curiosity. His sharp calculative blue eyes seemed to cut straight through the distance between the two flatmates into John. As John sat there quietly seething, his chest falling up and down with inner rage, the look Sherlock was giving him, only increased his anger.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, John?" Sherlock asked in his deep baritone voice. "You have punched me exactly five times and head butted me twice, have you not vented enough anger?" John narrowed his eyes at his best friend and after another few minutes of silently simmering, he spoke.

"Enough?" John exclaimed. "Christ Sherlock, I thought you were dead! Dead, Sherlock, for two years! You have no idea what I've been through." In a burst of anger, John punched the arm of the chair. There was a soft whump and a spray of dust flew into the air.

"I'm taking it, that you're not pleased to see me?" Sherlock asked, leaning forwards he raised an eyebrow.

John sniffed and looked away. He felt awkward when Sherlock fixed him with that gaze. "Can't say that I am at the moment." When he looked back at Sherlock, he winced, feeling a little guilty. As superior, big-headed and obnoxious as Sherlock was, John knew Sherlock had a vulnerable side.

Sherlock could be mean, incredibly so. He would speak without care, without sparing the feelings of others but there was another side to Sherlock, one that he would only allow John Watson to see.

John could see that side of him now. He could see fear, fear that he had finally pushed his friend too far. Sherlock was scared that John was going to leave him. Sherlock would never admit to such a thing but it was hidden there in his eyes.

No matter how much Sherlock pushed people away with his obnoxious rudeness, no matter what mistakes he made, John had always stood by him. Sherlock didn’t understand why he did, but he was grateful for John, with John around he wasn't alone. John was his rock, he helped to keep him in line and allowed him to become a better person for it. Yes, he cared more for John than he understood.

"Of course I'm pleased to see you," John sighed. "Sherlock, you must understand how I feel right now. I thought you were dead, I grieved for you! All this time you were alive and you didn't give me one clue to tell me you were okay. Molly knew, Mycroft and your parents knew... but me? The one person I thought you'd tell above anyone else!" John paused, aware he was raising his voice with every word until he was shouting. He took a deep breath to calm down and keep his anger in check.

"Of all these years we've been together, solving cases, surely by now you trust me enough to keep your secret?" John's anger had died, he now felt drained.

Sherlock's eyes flared, a ghost of a smile lifted his lips. The posture of his body shifted, no longer casual but elated as if he were about to enter into a particularly gruesome and entirely baffling case.

"You're jealous," he growled in his rumbling voice.

"Excuse me?" John blinked in confusion.

"You're jealous that I told Molly and Mycroft but not you," he declared with a grin.

"No Sherlock, I'm just disappointed you'd do something like that to me," John said shaking his head.

"No, I see it!" Sherlock exclaimed launching himself off the chair and pacing up and down, pointing his finger at John. "The slight downturn of your mouth, the tone of your voice, the anger you put into Mycroft and Molly's names, the anger, the hurt, your hands balled into fists, no, you've punched me enough, this isn't anger towards me now, it all points to one thing… jealousy." Sherlock's eyes were lit up with excitement, as if he had just solved a case.

"I am not a case, Sherlock!" John bellowed. John was so infuriated that Sherlock was treating him like a case to be solved rather than a human being and trying to empathise with his feelings, that the sheer force of his shout pushed him off the armchair. Now on his feet, his hands in fists, he really wanted to punch Sherlock again. He was sure punching Sherlock would make him feel much better.

Sherlock strode towards John. His boots fell heavily on the wooden floorboards and his long coat billowed behind him. He waggled his finger at John. John was so shocked at the speed Sherlock was striding towards him that he backed up until his back hit the wall painfully. He found himself trapped between Sherlock's chest and the wall.  
"Sherlock," John warned. "Personal space, please."

"You forget sometimes that I'm a highly functioning socio-path, John. I see everything. You may think you're hiding it John, but in here..." Sherlock held his hands to his head where his jet black hair shone in the dying light from the window. "Every single detail is highly defined, I can see the evidence without even looking."

John had been in a lot of sticky situations with Sherlock but right now, where his nose was almost pressed against Sherlock’s chest, this was the most intimate physical contact they've come. Right now, John wanted to be anywhere but here with his best friend.

Again, Sherlock's eyes flared. He grabbed John's wrist and John was so confused he simply just let him. "Raised pulse," Sherlock growled. "Could be anger but you've vented it all. Increased respiration, likewise." John's chest was heaving heavily and again John was confused. He wasn't angry, so why was he breathing so heavily? What was this, he was feeling? "Heated skin," he said rubbing the spot where his pulse thrummed. “Blood raised to the surface of your cheeks.” Sherlock traced his other hand across John’s right cheek.  
Suddenly, Sherlock’s leg pressed into John’s groin. John’s eyes bulged in shock, aware of what Sherlock could feel there. Sherlock’s smile widened. “All the evidence points to one clear, logical explanation…”

“And what is that Sherlock?” John demanded sharply.

“You are very pleased to see me,” Sherlock growled.

John sniffed, trying to avoid Sherlock’s intense eyes. He wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings, especially to Sherlock and yet here Sherlock was, trapping him until he confessed. There was no way Sherlock was going to sod off until John admitted he was pleased to see him.

“Fine,” John muttered awkwardly.

“Fine…?” Sherlock pressed.

“Fine, I’m pleased to see you,” John admitted. “Now are you going to get off me?”

“Not yet.” Sherlock gripped hold of John’s wrists and pulled them up above his head, holding him against the brown patterned wallpaper. “I still haven’t proved my point.”  
Sherlock lowered his head and John felt his soft warm breath flutter along his neck. John shivered. “You may have admitted you are pleased to see me but I believe my exact words were that you are very pleased to see me. John, not only can I clearly see the evidence of your arousal, I can also feel it.” Sherlock pressed his leg harder against the spot where John’s arousal was most evident.

John shook his head. “No…” he choked. “Sherlock, that’s…” He swallowed hard, concealing a sigh as Sherlock rubbed his leg against John’s swollen arousal.

“I see I’m going to have to prove my point further,” Sherlock concluded. 

With that, he bowed his head and lightly touched his lips to John’s. He planted feather light kisses across John’s mouth until he felt John give in.  
The fight had completely drained from John. The smell of Sherlock’s minty warm breath tickling across his face, his soft delicate lips against his, Sherlock’s strong restraining hands gripping his wrists almost painfully and the friction of his leg against John’s erection was all too much.

John relaxed and without thought or care, he returned Sherlock’s kisses. Sherlock’s grip on John’s wrists loosened. John lowered his arms to wrap them around Sherlock’s neck to bring him closer and deepen the kiss with a groan but Sherlock pulled away, lifting up the collar of his coat with a small smile.

“Point made,” Sherlock announced in a dark tone.

John blinked, suddenly feeling cold from the absence of Sherlock being pressed against him.  
“Is that it?” John asked taken aback. “You’re a real git, you know that. All that just to prove that you’re right?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, his sharp almond shaped calculative eyes boring into John.  
“No,” Sherlock growled.

“No?” John asked, straightening into the military posture he so often used when he felt uncomfortable. “What can you possibly mean by that?” he demanded, jutting out his chin.  
“I mean, it wasn’t just to prove that I am, of course, right,” Sherlock replied, his eyes darkening dangerously.

“Explain,” John insisted. 

“It was not only to prove that you, John Watson, was pleased to see me after my faking my death and to prove that, not only do you see me as a friend but a potential lover and therefore results in you being jealous of both Molly and Mycroft, it was also to prove that I, although I consider myself married to my work, I am in fact, interested in you as a potential lover. Over these past few years there has come to be only one person I care about, one person I would kill for, one person I value above anyone else and that is you, John,” Sherlock explained in a rapid series of words, it was almost impossible to keep up with but luckily for John, he’d had a lot of practice. Sometimes John wondered if Sherlock even breathed when he did long explanations like that, it didn’t seem like he did.

Sherlock stood in front of John feeling strangely vulnerable. As usual he had covered his feelings with a rapid series of facts and logic and spoke so fast he’d hoped John hadn’t quite understood what he was confessing. Then again he also hoped John did understand.

John stared at Sherlock with opened mouthed shock. It was a lot to take in, especially when a moment ago, Sherlock had been kissing him. John’s mind had never been in such a jumble. John frowned, looking down at his feet and trying to process Sherlock’s confession.

“So…” John said looking up and giving Sherlock a quick shy smile. “Where does this lead us?”

There was a brief pause and then at once, the two flatmates stepped towards each other, hastily seeking out each other’s lips. Sherlock met John’s mouth in a fierce passionate kiss, their lips stroked together and Sherlock took great pleasure in parting John’s lips with his tongue so he was able to explore his mouth. Their tongues danced and teased, each tasting the other and wanting more. With a groan, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulled him close, wanting more of Sherlock. He wanted to lose himself in him, to drown in him.

John hadn’t realised he felt this way about Sherlock. It was all new to him but now he just knew, he had been in denial. It always had been Sherlock from the moment they had first met. He was unable to resist Sherlock’s charms. Sherlock was all he wanted, all he needed.

John’s hands came to grip into Sherlock’s hair and he sighed with satisfaction. It was thick, with soft delicate curls. The black of his hair was deep and intense from this close up and the feel of it was better than he imagined.

The door to their flat opened quietly and Mrs Hudson popped her head in.

“Would you boys like some tea?” she asked. “I…” she stopped talking with a choke of surprise when she noticed the two locked in a passionate embrace. “I’ll come back later, shall I?” she said trying to sound nonchalant but the croak in her voice was evidence she was a little in shock. The door whispered closed behind her.  
“I believe we may have given Mrs Hudson a heart attack,” Sherlock said in his most calm voice.

John looked up with that awkward smile of his. “Bedroom?”

The only warning John got that he was very much in danger was the flash of excitement that Sherlock gets in those eyes of his and then he heard the click of handcuffs. With a cry of surprise he looked down to see that Sherlock had produced a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and had handcuffed the two together.

“Let me guess, Lestrade’s?” John asked referring to the handcuffs.

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes as he is accustomed to do whenever Lestrade is mentioned. A big grin lit his face. “The game is on,” he declared and dragged John to his room.

As soon as their feet passed over the threshold, their lips met with a heated urgency. John was desperate to see just how far Sherlock’s beautiful white skin stretched, he wanted those clothes off Sherlock. He had a sneaky suspicion that Sherlock wanted him the same way too judging by the suggestive hard poking of his arousal at his hip.  
For a moment, all John could think about was that warm throbbing hardness at his hip. Sherlock wanted him. For a long time he thought Sherlock wasn’t sexual at all. He knew it would take a lot to get Sherlock to feel anything and yet it was John that made him feel that way.

“John,” Sherlock grumbled. Sherlock ran his long fingers down John’s cheek, down his neck, across his chest. With each centimetre he travelled, John’s skin grew hotter, his stomach clenched with need and his erection throbbed. Sherlock’s hand passed his stomach to cup his full bulging erection. John thrust his hips forward with a gasp, while Sherlock stroked the length of him with expert hands. He watched what he was doing to John with heated seductive eyes.

Already John felt as if he were about to explode. The mere touch of Sherlock’s hand was driving him crazy. How could one touch from Sherlock cause him to feel this intense pleasure? It was no good, he wanted more and their clothes were just getting in the way.

Suddenly feeling bold and confident - this was Sherlock after all, the two were meant for each other and there was nothing they could do to drive the other away - John pushed off Sherlock’s infamous coat, fumbled to undo the buttons of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

Sherlock’s glorious pale chest was revealed to him. With a moan, he ran a hand down his smooth silky chest. He would have preferred to use both hands but the other was still handcuffed to Sherlock’s. He felt Sherlock shiver under his touch.

With a speed John didn’t think Sherlock possessed except for particularly exciting cases, Sherlock discarded John’s jacket and shirt. John let out a whimper when Sherlock’s lips left his to explore along his jaw, biting and sucking and licking his way down to his neck and further still to his chest. His travels took him to a nipple which he teased with his tongue into hardness.

By this point, John was shaking with need. He was sure his legs wouldn’t hold him up any longer and just on cue, Sherlock lowered him to the bed. His mouth continued travelling down his stomach to nip and bite at a hip bone that left John breathless and panting for more. 

Sherlock took the time to look over at John with a cheeky smile and a wink. He had found one of the particularly sensitive spots on John. John believed a lot of people thought Sherlock would be hopeless in bed but he was quite the opposite. He may have been a virgin but he knew all the pleasure spots and exactly what to do. He stretched out to claim his friend’s mouth once again, his hands working to undo John’s belt.

His long pale hand dipped under John’s single remaining garment to take hold of John’s hot throbbing erection. His hand glided gently over his length getting a satisfying hiss from John. His hands just did wonderful things to John’s body. John’s boxers were torn off and with excruciating slowness, Sherlock slid his mouth over his erection. John cried out with pleasure as his aching cock slipped into Sherlock’s warm moist mouth.

“Sherlock,” he cried, gripping the bed covers and nearly going over the edge. But Sherlock was an expert at anything and knew exactly how to handle John. With a click, Sherlock released himself from the handcuffs and attached them to the bedpost above John’s head. John’s arm was stretched out a little painfully above him but he liked the feel of it. Everything Sherlock was doing to him gave him an enormous amount of pleasure.

Sherlock briefly rummaged around in the bedside draw and saw a small bottle flash in his hands. John felt Sherlock’s slippery fingers on another exciting place. Without thought or control, John opened his legs to allow Sherlock to explore deep inside him. With a cry that surprised himself, John felt a pleasure he had never felt before. Sherlock had found just the spot where John craved him to be.

Sherlock smiled, it was a special smile just for John. He hadn’t realised it before but that smile had always been for him. So full of love, excitement and passion.  
“John,” Sherlock panted. He could see Sherlock’s chest heaving with passion. John was so shocked he could make him feel like this. Sherlock, a guy everyone thought was cold and heartless was full of need and desire for John. “I need you, I’ve always needed you. You know that?” he said huskily.

John nodded and as if he had given him permission, Sherlock entered him. The two friends gasped in wonder as they joined in a pleasure that raised them towards the stars. Sherlock thrust into him slowly and carefully to start, stroking John’s hard throbbing length and watching John closely as desire grew in his expression. Sherlock had wanted to make love to John like this, face to face for so long. To see his need, his love and desire so clearly on his face. He always tried to hide it but Sherlock had always detected little signs John didn’t even realise he was revealing. But now, lost in lust, John couldn’t hold back.

Sherlock started thrusting faster, sinking deeper and deeper into John. The two panted heavily, unable to speak through sheer lust. Unable to control himself, Sherlock’s hands raked down John’s body, his nails trailing red marks. He came to grip John’s hips tightly, plunging into him with only desire swirling in his mind.

They could feel themselves losing control, just lost in the feeling of pleasuring each other. Before Sherlock’s mind was completely taken over, he bent to grip hold of John’s loose hand, lacing his fingers in his and giving John the most passionate kiss full of need he could muster, trying to communicate all his love for his best friend.

Then, for the first time, Sherlock’s mind was lost. He pounded into John hard and fast, unable to go slow at all as he sought out his release. He thought his bed might break but he didn’t care, he knew he was being a little rough but he didn’t care, he knew John was enjoying it just as much as he was. Through his fogged mind, he heard and felt John’s orgasm. With a loud rough cry, John’s very being exploded, his mind and body taken over by orgasm. His semen squirting up into the air to land on his stomach and Sherlock’s chest.  
With a groan, Sherlock reached his own orgasm, coming deep inside John. Sherlock had longed for this moment with John and now it was actually happening, it was better than he imagined. The explosion of his orgasm was an intense one, spilling into John again and again. Sherlock had another, new experience. A sense of peace, calm and high clarity entered his mind and with a satisfied sigh, he collapsed on top of John, wrapping his arms around the only man he’d ever loved.


End file.
